


His Favorite Show

by CogitoVirus



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Incest, M/M, Masturbation, solo sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 16:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CogitoVirus/pseuds/CogitoVirus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk finds ways to cope with his brother's absence. They aren't healthy but they work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Favorite Show

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mortior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mortior/gifts).



“— tomato on a piece of pizza, it was shaped like Monroe’ lips puckered up for a kiss—” Dave’s voice droned on from the TV in that perfect flat monotone that if it were in a classroom would put the students to sleep but just made everyone in the talk show’s audience hang on his words all the more eagerly. Dirk wasn’t immune to his brother’s anti-charm; his fist was wrapped tight around his cock as he jacked himself off slowly, teasing himself even now by drawing it out.

He’d set the TV to record this and when he came back from school, he forced himself to go through his usual routines first. He showered, he changed, he ate dinner, he did his homework and he even managed to fit in a strife against one of his bots. If he destroyed it more swiftly than usual, it was just because he’d gotten better. It wasn’t because he was so eager to hear his brother’s voice again that he’d sped through everything. He had more self-control than that. He was a Strider. He wasn’t desperate for contact from someone that had left him. He could wait.

He didn’t let himself think about how the moment Dave had come on his screen, his zip had come open, or how all it had taken was Dave to start talking for Dirk to get hard. He’d laced his hands behind his head, made himself stay like that with his cock out and his eyes focused on the screen, watching the minute tells of his brother’s face instead of the way that his cock filled flush with blood and twitched with interest at nothing more than his brother being an ironic douchebag. 

His brother glanced at the camera for a moment, a slight smirk curving his lips, and Dirk groaned, squeezing his cock roughly. He loved it when Dave did that, when Dave looked like he was actually looking at him. His brother was too much the professional to do it often but when he did… Blood welled down from Dirk’s lips where he’d split the soft skin by biting it too hard and Dirk licked it up eagerly, pretending it was Dave’s, pretending he’d greeted Dave with such a passionate kiss that he’d made his brother bleed for him and Dave hadn’t cared, just kissed him back harder. Yes. Fuck. That was good, that was perfect.

He rolled his hips upwards into his own hand, fingers slick with lube, and let the sound of his brother’s voice wash over him. He could pretend it was just for him, that Dave was kneeling over him, telling him all about the process of making those fucking movies that took him away from Dirk. It was like having Dirk there, to tell Dirk all the details. It made up for Dave’s frequent absences - or at least made Dave feel less guilty. It made Dirk feel his brother actually gave a damn about having to leave him.

Dirk panted and grabbed at his cellphone. It was cued up already to the message Dave had left on his answering machine the other night, his voice slurred and slow, clearly drunk.

“Suuuup, beautiful. You wanna take a ride on the strider train tonight? Dest— destination. Fuck city. Fuck this city. Come on. I’ll send - send the driver to pick ya up.”

The thick Texan accent that Dave had hammered out of his monotone came back when he was drunk. Dirk had no idea whom Dave had meant to call and knew his brother hadn’t known either. Why else the lack of names? It was perfect. It was all Dirk needed. 

“Love to, bro,” He was breathless, couldn’t quite force the smirk into his voice properly, but he was so fucking close already. “Screw the driver, you come over here.” 

It’d been way too long since his brother was home.

He closed his eyes and kept going, listening to the sound of Dave’s voice on the TV, jacking himself violently. When he came, it was his back arched and his toes curled, the shaking shock of orgasm nearly enough to knock him off the couch. He panted, the quick breaths nearly like sobs, then dropped back down against the couch. 

Prying open his eyelids felt like opening safe doors that had rusted shut. He’d come so hard that his vision was blurry; the shimmering figure of his brother was a familiar hallucination in the moments after orgasm and at first, Dirk just gave it a wry smirk. That was the most he saw of his brother. Bastard couldn’t even bother hanging around while Dirk got himself off. He only ever appeared afterwards like the ghost of Dirk’s conscience.

The figure didn’t disappear as his vision cleared. Dirk squinted at it, confused, then froze. 

There was a carry-on in the doorway, a sleek black leather thing. There was a carry on and his brother’s clothes were crumpled and he was staring at Dirk (half dressed, come on his chest, fingers still wrapped around his cock) and on the TV, Dave’s interview was still playing. 

No. No, no, no, no. Fuck no.

Dirk was frozen, mind spinning as a thousand explanations and excuses tumbled over each other, the words tangling and knotting together in a lump in his throat that nearly choked him. “Bro, listen—”

He swore there was censure in the glint of Dave’s shades as Dave turned and walked right back out of the house again.


End file.
